


Seeds of Fear

by DevBasaa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Gen, Moments In and Out of Time, Series one-off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevBasaa/pseuds/DevBasaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having been brought into the circle of Hydra devotees, Brock Rumlow meets The Asset.</p><p>This is a stand alone work, but it belongs with the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/95870">Moments In and Out of Time</a> series, set between '<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1553342">Not Like This</a>' and '<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1648301">A New Time</a>'.  But as I see the series as a strictly Stucky story-arc, I've left it as a stand-alone and can be read that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeds of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Because [Wookiecookie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Wookiecookie/pseuds/Wookiecookie) asked: _is it possible if we can see a short glimpse between Rumlow and Winter Soldier? I'm just curious of your version if you ever plan to make one._
> 
> I didn't /plan/ to make one, but I must be highly suggestible because here we are. The moment I answered WC with "oooh, I might have to think about that", I should have known it was a done deal. But then it became so much more and I'm already noticing the impact of this story on the next part of the series, so....thanks Wookiecookie!

When The Asset wakes, he feels old. His muscles are stiff and resistant and for several long minutes, he isn’t sure why he’s so cold.

_Oh._

That’s right.

They do this to him periodically, put him in cryo, put him into a deep freeze. Just as they periodically strap him to this chair and give him pain in trade for his thoughts. They think he never remembers anything. He decided long ago (how long ago?) that he’d keep it that way.

He never knows exactly how one moment ends and another begins. They keep all the numbers from him: time, date, days, years. He simply opens his eyes and he knows that time has passed. He sees it in the few faces he can recall.

He’s in the chair again; he usually is. They’ve—the men who hover near, but keep a distance—have already adhered the monitors to him; his heart rate appears like a blip on a screen. They document and whisper together; he watches them work, but it bores him. He stares forward.

That’s when he sees him, the latest leader. If he ever knew his name, he’s forgotten it now. There have been others. He’s not even sure if he’s been aware of them all. But this one has possibly lasted the longest; this one keeps the leash short and the whip close.

The Asset can see the leader has aged again. He has blond hair and wears glasses. The Asset doesn’t think he wore glasses last time. He stands with another man, a younger one with dark hair. They’re talking quietly, as if they forget that The Asset can hear them regardless.

“He’s a highly specialized weapon, developed long before you were a thought in your mother’s head. We call him The Asset—because he is.”

The younger man watches as The Asset watches him. “He doesn’t have a name?”

The leader shrugs. “He did once. I’ve chosen to forget it. You don’t need to know.”

The dark haired man nods once, but The Asset sees a crease between his brows. Uncertainty. He would be easily overwhelmed at this moment. Press him, he will crumble in the face of his fear.

The leader doesn’t take the opportunity. He gestures the young man forward and soon they stand at the edge of The Asset’s chair.

“We’ve brought you into the fold, Rumlow, because you have the kind of mind and power it takes to be successful to Hydra. In your own way, I see you too as a potential asset. Though, not quite like this one.”

The leader grabs The Asset by the hair and pulls his head back. The pain is sharp and he hisses at the intensity, then grunts as his face is turned upwards.

He’s learned how he is expected to respond. The pain will only worsen if he fights it; the leader’s thirst for his suffering will only heighten if he succumbs to this anguish.

So he works. He calms his breathing, centers his focus, despite the pain, despite the anger that floods through his body, making his muscles taut with the desire to strike out. He hears the /beep beep/ of his heart rate speed up. Carefully, slowly, he takes himself under control. He denies the pain; he draws his anger into the pit of his stomach until it fuels him for the next strike.

It comes in quick: the leader releases his hair with another hard pull and then back-hands him across the face. The Asset takes the hit then turns to look forward again; his breathing normalizes. His heart beat slows to its earlier rhythm.

He can endure.

“He’s fascinating, isn’t he? The control he has? I’ve never seen anything like it. Aspire to it, Rumlow and you will go far here.”

The pair walk away again and The Asset could have focused and listened to their words, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t care. 

Except that the young man keeps darting him a glance, unable to pay complete attention to their leader. The Asset stares at him; the stink of his fear blossoms.

The leader caps the young man on the shoulder, bids him to mull around, watch, observe. The man nods and slowly turns as the leader leaves the room. The man starts to look, leans over the shoulder of a few of the men who focus on the technology of The Asset’s arm. He then shuffles by the armed guards who are never far away when The Asset is awake.

But the young man’s gaze continues to linger; he keeps watching who watches him.

The Asset barely blinks.

The man circles back until he’s at the chair side again. “Am I that interesting to you? Why do you keep staring at me?”

The Asset doesn’t speak; he continues to watch. The young man’s jaw hardens; there are cracks in his composure.

“So I’m to aspire to this?” The man grimaces. “Are you dumb? Have they wiped your brain clean?” He chuckles, but his eyes are wider than before. Large chunks fall away from his façade. One of the men who scuttle in the background approaches.

“You should be careful, lad.”

“Careful of what? Of this?”

The Asset expects the strike; of course, he’d planted the seeds. He turns his head before the young man can make contact; it’s a bare brush of skin on skin. The man’s expression shifts from bitter mocking to pure shock. His fear is complete. 

The Asset stands and swings, catching the man across the face with his mechanical arm. He flies, off his feet and onto his back, sliding across the concrete floor. The guards flash like lightening into their stance, guns raised and pointed at what they all fear.

And it isn’t that idiot boy.

The other men yell and a few run out; one returns with the leader on his heels.

“What just happened here?”

“Him,” one of the men says, pointing at the young man who is slowly sitting up, holding his jaw and shaking his head; blood stains his teeth. The Asset imagines the man sees double. “He attacked the weapon.”

The leader darts a glance at The Asset. He sees how dark the leader’s eyes are, how tense his jaw. The Asset slowly sits back in his chair; the leash has been tugged. Then the leader strides forward until he stands at the young man’s feet, towering over his crumpled form. “Is this true?”

The young man continues to rub his jaw, smearing blood across his cheek. “You said you liked my power, what I have to offer. I was asserting myself.”

There’s a cool intensity to the leader’s voice; it’s a tone The Asset knows too well. He’s never liked it.

“You don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do. Do you understand me?” Then he points, without looking, towards The Asset. “No one touches him, but me. You should remember your place.”

The leader drops his arm and takes two broad steps back towards the door, before spitting the words: “Get up.”

The young man climbs to his feet, unsteady when he first straightens. He slowly passes by The Asset’s chair.

The Asset, his voice pitched low, says, “Remember your place.”

The man sharply looks at him, eyes again wide. The uncertainty and fear now lives inside that mind.

That is something, too, The Asset knows well.

The young man follows after the leader, his steps quickened.

With the hesitancy of spooked animals, the men return to their work, monitoring The Asset, making adjustments to his metal arm. No one speaks; they don’t even tell the guards to lower their guns as they usually do. The guns stay pointed at him.

Somewhere inside him, deep where it can’t be seen, where he can pretend he still has any control at all, he smiles.

But The Asset’s face doesn’t move.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Please see the [Moments In and Out of Time](http://archiveofourown.org/series/95870) series for more of this story arc.


End file.
